


Painless (Summerville Academy)

by WeirdKid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Falling In Love, Future, Multi, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Warnings May Change, Work In Progress, also very brief, but very brief - Freeform, it's not as dark as it first seems, warning: slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 18:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18371669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdKid/pseuds/WeirdKid
Summary: When Prue's parents got murdered, she and her brother were separated and put in foster care. After a series of events, she gets arrested. A mysterious man offers her a way out, and a way to see her brother, by going to an even mysterious academy, and she accepts. There, she learns how to use her anger to her advantage, but also meets new friends and a possible life partner or two.My first attempt at writing fiction.





	Painless (Summerville Academy)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of an idea I have for a book. It's my first work of fiction, please be kind to me. English is not my first language.

  Prue was confused about why exactly she got arrested.

  She had started her day the same way she started most of them nowadays. She opened her eyes and, it took her a minute, but when she realized where she was and what day it was, she immediately and completely woke up. It was the last day of this awful torment she had to endure. Tomorrow, she will finally be able to see her brother. She stared at the ceiling for a minute, following the cracks and stains, her eyes scanning the bare, dirty walls of her room; there were dozens of dents and holes, a couple of which Prue was responsible for. She remembered one instance last year when she punched the wall so hard she left a massive hole, and split her knuckles and had to go to the emergency room. She had felt so angry back then.

  This morning though, excitement flowed through her veins, but she was nervous too. She untangled herself from her sheets, and pounced from the bed, getting dressed quickly. She pulled on a black t-shirt, jeans, and socks. She was doing everything with feverish haste, as if the faster she went, the faster the day would go. She opened the curtains and then the window of her room, and looked outside. A pryme – a flying car – flew by, dangerously close to her window. Three more prymes flew by and she heard a commotion outside. She leaned over the window sill and saw two homeless men fighting over something. While they were throwing punches, a crowd of people watched, but nobody interfered. Prue lived on the third floor of a small building owned by the city, used by the Ministry of Children and Youth Services for foster care.

  Opening the door with unnecessary force, she ran through the hallway and tried opening the door to the communal bathroom, but found it locked. She knocked harshly several times and yelled that the occupant hurries up. While waiting for the bathroom to be free, she thought about her current situation. It has been 6 months since the day her life changed horrifically. 183 days to be exact; Prue was counting them. She thought about her brother and what he must be feeling right now. She hoped people he lived with treated him well.

  Six months ago, on the 10th of October, a Sunday, she had gone to a party at a friend’s apartment. Her brother Lucas had also gone out, to a friend’s home, to study. The two of them were supposed to be home and have a movie night with their parents. It was their tradition. That Sunday however, Prue and Lucas broke it and left their parents at home.

  The police later told Prue that her parents were watching a movie when they were interrupted by two men, who broke into their apartment and attacked them. In a police report that Prue got her hands on later that year, it was stated that they were watching Jurassic World, an old classic, and that they were eating strawberry-flavored popcorn. Apparently, the men who broke in didn’t want to steal anything; they just wanted to hurt somebody. They surprised her father first and stabbed him straight in the heart. Her mother resisted them, but they stabbed her too, twice in the gut and once in the heart.

  Police eventually caught the men who killed her parents. They were homeless, living on the street, and claimed to have been “visited by the angels and told to kill people”.

  Since the death of her parents, Prue and Lucas were separated by social services. When it happened, Prue was 17 and Lucas was 14. They were sent to different foster homes and Lucas was to be adopted. That is unless Prue becomes his guardian when she turns 18.

  And that was tomorrow.

  She raised her hand to knock on the door again, but before she could, the door opened and she was met by a pair of ashamed blue eyes. A girl in her late teens, called something like Madison or Brooklyn or some other old city, was in her underwear and held her unhooked bra to her chest. Behind her, a boy, also in his teens, wore boxer briefs and a towel around his neck, probably covering the hickeys she had made on him. His name was Nate. Prue raised an eyebrow but moved out of their way. They passed by her and went their separate ways; girl’s rooms were on the left side of the house, while the boy’s rooms were on the right. Nate turned around and said, “Hey Londyn, see you later”. _Londyn, right._

  Prue went in the bathroom and washed her face, brushed her teeth and hair, and looked in the mirror for a minute, thinking about her appearance. She always used to make an effort to look nice. She had used special, warm Atlantian products to keep her face clean and spotless, as well as nice shampoos to keep her unruly hair shiny and beautiful. But ever since her parents died, she has not used beauty products and hasn’t put on makeup. She felt weird just thinking about it, but it was like the life she had led before they died made no sense anymore. The only thing that seemed important was surviving and seeing her brother again. They kept in touch via text, as well as video calls, which he was allowed sometimes, but they were allowed to see each other only once, and it was when Prue had gotten informed by the detectives on their parents’ case; when the police had caught the killers.

  Looking in the mirror and seeing the bags under her dark eyes, the zits on her cheeks and her hair frizzy, she felt a wave of sadness falling over her and she teared up; it only lasted for a moment though. She punched her knee as hard as she could and the pain brought her back to reality. _Pull yourself together!_ She yelled at herself in her head and wiped the tears.

  Coming back to her room, she picked up her Optical Data Device – ODD – bracelet and turned it on. She saw she had one unread message and opened it. It was detective Khyree Dawson, the one responsible for her parents’ case. Her bracelet lit up with red laser beams and his face appeared as a virtual simulation in the air above it. His face was solemn and his voice low and deep.

  “Prue, I need you to come to my office as soon as possible”, he said, “I have new information about your parents’ case and I need you to identify someone for me if you can.” The message stopped there and his face disappeared. She pressed a couple of buttons and raised her arm in front of her face. When it started recording, she said: “I’ll be right there.”

  It took her seconds to get ready; she threw on a jacket, put her wallet in one of her pockets and slid in her simple, dark red Doc Martens. She locked her room and ran down three flights of stairs and outside. The wind was blowing hard and, above her, prymes were flying in both directions. The street was packed with old cars, mostly from the 20’s and 30’s, and people were filling the gaps between them, everyone walking in their own direction. It was a busy Monday morning. She went south, then crossed the street and took the escalator stairs to the aerobus station. She waited there for about three minutes, then got on the aerobus, pressed her ODD bracelet to a machine near the doors, and sat behind a huge man in a suit. He was carrying a big brown briefcase, a golden watch, and black sunglasses. He was reading the news on his ODD tablet and, since it was the only way she would find out anything new about the outside world, she leaned in and read a couple of headlines.

 

The Minister of Defense Found Dead In His Apartment

An Aerobus Crash in North Atlantis THIRD SO FAR

East Atlantis Killer Still on the Loose In 2078

 

  The man must have felt her behind his back because he turned around and looked at her. She, not so subtly, sat back in her seat and pretended to look through the window of the bus. She kept pretending even after he turned back around, mostly because she was embarrassed she got caught. Next thing she knew, she started feeling the anger again, and she bit her lip hard, trying to calm herself.

  Her station was next. The aerobus stopped at the waiting platform and magnets hooked its side to it. She exited it and walked quickly down the platform stairs, then looked up and realized she was in her old neighborhood. She knew every street very well, every shop and every alley. She recognized them all while walking towards a large building made of grey stone. That building was maybe the only one she never went into while she was living there; these days though, she was a frequent visitor.

  She entered the building, went through the scanners, got a visitor badge, then took the elevator to the 6th floor and came face to chest with detective Dawson. He was a tall, black man, who had a firm hand, but a nice smile.

  “Hey Prue, didn’t see you there. I was on my way to scan a report, but that can wait”, he smiled and waved her in, “Come on, let’s sit somewhere private.” He took her to his desk first and left a flash drive in a desk drawer.

  He moved a large pile of documents and found what he was looking for, a tablet. He brought it with him and took her to an interrogation room. She sat on a chair at the table, and he sat opposite her, pressed a couple of buttons on the tablet and showed it to her. It was a face simulation of a man.

  “Do you know him?” he asked her, going straight to the point. She looked at the photo for a few moments, but nothing came to her. The man had a strong jaw, narrow nose, blue eyes and pale skin, and short, pointy hair.

  “No, sorry. Should I?”

  “He’s the man who told Huber and Soto to kill your parents.” Prue felt like her heart had sunk to her stomach.

  “What… He…” She looked at the face again and tried to place him somewhere in her life, or her parents’ life, but she couldn’t. “I’ve never seen him before”, she concluded. He nodded at that and took the tablet off the table. He typed something, then placed it between them on the table again.

  “What about now?” he asked. This time it was the same man, but with a basketball cap and sunglasses.

  “No, sorry, I don’t know him.” She was really anxious all of a sudden and she placed her hands into fists under the table, digging her nails into her palms. She kept looking at the man, but the more she looked, the angrier she got. She looked up at the detective and found him looking at her worriedly. “I’m sorry”, she whispered.

  “It’s okay, really, don’t worry.” He kept his voice low and calming. It helped.

  “We interviewed Soto again yesterday. I thought it was going nowhere, but he started remembering the man who told them to…” he stopped himself from saying something along the lines of _kill your parents_. After a brief pause, he said “I got the sketch artist in the cell and this is what we’ve got now. We have his face.”

  “Did you search for him in your database?” Prue asked.

  “Yes, he isn’t in the database. He must not have a criminal record, or else we would’ve found him.”

  “Oh”, Prue felt hopeless again, but then she had an idea. “Can you send me the photo? I can show it to my brother and see if he knows him.” He nodded, already on it. While he was doing it, he said: “We are thinking of releasing the photo to the media, but I was hoping you’d help me first.” Prue received the photo on her ODD and nodded. “Thank you”, she said and looked him in the eyes. “Really, thank you, for staying on the case.”

  “No problem”, he assured her. “How are you feeling? When are you going to see your brother?”

  “I’m okay. I’ll try to see him today. I turn 18 tomorrow, and the custody hearing should be soon, so I’m hopeful.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” He stood up and took the tablet and she saw that as a sign to leave. “Contact me as soon as possible, when you see Lucas”, he concluded.

  “I will.”

 

 

***

 

 

  She didn’t even go back to her foster home, she went straight to the social service’s office. There she was told by the receptionist to wait in the hall, so she waited. She sat in a chair across from a wealthy couple who looked way out of their comfort zone in the room. There were other people in the room: an older lady with a cane, two women in their 30’s who looked like sisters, and a man in his 50’s with a dark beard. The office was on the 4th floor and you could hear the noise of the traffic coming from outside.

  “PRATT!” A man’s voice yelled from the room at the end of the hallway. She stood up and walked through the hallway, but as she was about to go in, the door opened forcefully and surprised her. “PRATT!” he yelled again, then frowned at her.

  “That’s me”, she said and raised her eyebrows. He let her inside, then closed the door. She took a look around the room: there was a big table, a huge old computer on it, and a big pile of paper documents; behind it, there was a window, slightly opened. On her left, there was an opened filing cabinet that was as tall as the room, and a small metal ladder; on her right was a shelf, full of books. She sat on a chair in front of the desk and waited. The social worker was a middle-aged, overweight, white man, with receding brown hair and sharp blue eyes. He seemed like he was always frowning. He moved quickly for a man of his proportions and sat at the table.

  “I am Bobby Chapman, your new social worker. Mrs. Rosales retired.” his voice was rough. Prue looked at his face but when she caught his eye, she looked down and at his stomach. One button of his shirt was undone right in the middle of it. “How can I help you?” His voice sounded like it would really pain him to help her.

  She started strong. “I want to see my brother. He’s in a foster home. We’ve been separated for…” He interrupted her, “What’s your name again?” He was typing on the computer, slowly, with his index fingers.

  “It’s Prue. Prue Pratt”, she said, emphasizing her name slowly.

  “Born in?” he asked, typing and squinting at the screen. “Full date.”

  “12th of April 2060. I’ll be turning 18 tomorrow.”

  “Nice”, he said with a smirk. He typed some more and then said: “Got it.” He looked at her pointedly. “And you want to see your brother. Why?”

  “I need to ask him something. It’s important.”

  “Ask him what?”

  “It’s related to our parents’ murder”, she had a gut feeling not to tell him exactly what.

  “I see.” He was still looking at her and she felt scrutinized. “Your custody hearing is in a week. Can’t it wait?”

  She was confused. Why was he making it difficult? “No, it can’t. It’s really important.” She felt like she had made a mistake then because he made a face like he was actually enjoying torturing her.

  “I’m sorry, little lady”, he said, completely unapologetically. “I think you will just have to wait until then.”

  She was very annoyed with this man. Mrs. Rosales would’ve given her permission to see Lucas by now. He must’ve sensed her getting angry because he smiled an awful smile, full of yellow teeth. “Unless…” he started. She felt uneasy for some reason. He continued, “Unless there is something you would do in return for me?” _Oh._

  “What would you want me to do?” she asked, knowing it would be something she probably wouldn’t do.

  “Well,” he stood up and walked around the table. “If you would be a doll and…” he smirked again, “Persuade me somehow…” He turned her chair around and stood right in front of her. She could smell his sweat. He took her right hand and put it on his crotch. She ripped it away and shivered. _Oh my god._ She tried to get up, but he was so close to her she couldn’t. He opened the zipper on his pants and leaned in really close to her face. She swallowed hard and felt a scream rising to her throat. “Lick it good, brown sugar”, he said hoarsely.

  Prue gathered all of her strength and punched him in his balls. He made a weak sound and stumbled backwards. She jumped to her feet and started to leave, but he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her back. “No”, she said.

  “Where are you going bitch?” He tightened his grip on her arm.

  “Let me go, or I’ll scream.” She hoped threatening will scare him. But it didn’t.

  “Who else would want you, brownie? Dirty bitch!” He gritted his teeth. She was so scared and furious at the same time. There was nothing else left but to beg.

  “Please, let me go. I only wanted to see my brother. Please…”

  “I’ll make sure you never see him again, you little slut. You’ll never see your brown, ugly brother again-”

  She punched him in the face, hard. He croaked and let her go. Then it was like a dam broke inside her. Prue punched him in the throat, then kept punching him, in the nose, jaw, stomach. After the sixth punch, he fell to the floor and let out a scream. She started kicking him in the gut. The anger she felt made her ruthless. She knew exactly what people mean when they say “seeing red”. She had tunnel vision.

  Behind her, door swung open, and a pair of heavy arms took her behind her back. Somebody tore her away from Chapman. She stopped fighting them, and let them take her away from him. They put her in a room with a similar desk, pushed her in a chair and tied her arms to it. She was fuming. It all happened so fast.

  Next thing Prue knew, she was being taken away by the police. She had blood on her hands, and the old scab on her middle finger was open and bleeding. Her heart was still beating so hard against her ribcage, she could hear it pumping in her ears. She was being pushed through the hall and everyone was staring at her. The wealthy couple was eyeing her like she was a maniac. They pulled her through the front door and she saw an ambulance-pryme flying away. _Outside is colder_ , she thought. She shivered in her light jacket and realized she was sweating profusely. It’s like she was boiling from inside. Although she was scared of what was going to happen to her, she felt relieved that the ambulance hadn’t come there for her.

  While the policeman was pushing her in a police-pryme, she remembered her mom singing to her when she was younger and scared.

 

 

***

 

 

  Prue was sitting in a dark room when she finally got out of a trance. She had been processed, her fingerprints and mugshot were taken, as well as her clothes. She had been given a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, and grey prison shoes. Prison shoes were simple and easy to get into and had no zippers or shoelaces. The pair they had given to her were a size bigger. She was handcuffed to the table.

  She looked around and noticed a two-way mirror. _They’re watching me_. She kept looking at it and seconds later as if they took that as a sign she was ready to talk, a man entered the room. He had short, light brown hair and a beard, and caramel brown eyes; he looked like he was in his 40’s. He placed his hands on the desk between them and asked: “Are you feeling better now?” She nodded and he continued, “Okay, Prue, can you tell me what happened?”

  She couldn’t remember his name. It’s like she blacked out the whole thing, the arrest, and the processing.

  “Who are you?” she asked. He looked at her but kept his face blank.

  “I’m detective Silva. I arrested you. Do you remember me?”

  “Sorry, I forgot.”

  “It’s alright. Can you tell me what happened with you and Mr. Chapman?”

  She felt like she had been stuck with a needle at the mention of his name. “He attacked me. He wanted to rape me. I was defending myself!”

  “He says you assaulted him. In fact, he says you tried to bribe him with sex and when it didn’t work, you started hitting him.” While he was talking he was looking her in the eyes. She felt ashamed and angry all over again.

  “No! That’s not what happened!” She bit her lip to stop herself from yelling. “Please. You gotta believe me, I just wanted to see my brother.”

  “Yes and when he didn’t let you see your brother, you did what you did, you had to.” She knew he was playing her, goading her to confess, but that was not going to happen.

  “No. He stood in front of me and opened his zipper. He wouldn’t let me leave.”

  “It’s your word against his and right now, I’m leaning towards his. You almost put him in a coma. You broke his jaw, his nose, a couple of his ribs, and you hurt his trachea.” He looked at her apologetically, but there was also a bit of disgust there, in his jaw and around his eyes. “I’m sorry, but he will be pressing charges. If you confess and if there are other circumstances we’re not aware of yet, you might not go to jail.”

  “I won’t confess to anything I’m not guilty of”, she said, angry that she has to even explain this.

  “These are serious charges. You’ll go to jail.” She looked at his eyes and realized there’s only one thing left for her to do.

  “I want a lawyer.”

 

 

***

 

 

  Her lawyer came a few hours later. She had been moved to a holding cell and had to wait in there. Thankfully, she was alone, sitting on a not-so-comfortable, metal bed. A tall, skinny, middle-aged man came with an officer, who unlocked the door for him. When the officer left, he extended his right hand for Prue to shake it. She stood up and did so. He introduced himself, his name was Anthony Swanson, and he was a public defender. In his other hand was a briefcase. He told her to take a seat, she did and so did he. He confirmed what the detective told her, that she would be facing jail time.

  He said that if she was to admit to attacking Chapman and plead temporary insanity, she would probably get probation, would have to go to anger management and pay a fine. “How much would the fine be?”

  “Depends on how far Chapman wants to go for.”

  “Then no. He attacked me, I defended myself.” She pleaded him with her eyes. He had pretty, blue eyes.

  “Then we can go to court. I can represent you, or you can choose a different lawyer.”

  “I don’t know any lawyer. I trust you.” And she did. Mostly because he actually listened to her. Then she asked the question she feared the most.

  “What will happen to my brother?”

  “Oh yes, your brother. I’m so sorry to have to inform you of this. He is being moved to a different foster home, and you won’t be allowed to see him until the hearing. I’m sorry.” Her heart stopped. _No, no, no._ What is she going to do now?

  “But how… Isn’t there…” She was speechless. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. Would now be the right time to start praying?

  She didn’t hear when the officer opened the door to her cell, but she heard him say “Time’s up” and she felt Swanson’s hand on hers. That brought her back to reality. She pulled her hand back but thanked him. He said “We’ll see each other soon. Try to stay positive.” and then he left. She was alone again. _Stay positive. Right._

 

 

***

 

 

  Prue started crying about an hour after her lawyer left. She didn’t stop until she fell asleep, and maybe not even then. She didn’t dream. She woke up when she heard the cell open and in her delirious state she thought she was in her bed at the foster home. The bed was not as comfortable as it usually was and that was weird, but then she saw an officer, leading a woman in handcuffs into the cell and she was brought back to reality. The woman sat on the bed opposite her and Prue continued crying silently. She was about to fall asleep again when another officer unlocked the door. “Pratt, you’ve got a visitor.” She had a nice voice.

  Prue was confused enough to stop crying. It was way past visiting hours. Who in the hell would be allowed to visit at night? She stood up, wiped the tears off her face and followed the officer. She led her to an interrogation room and closed the door behind them. At first, Prue thought the man sitting in the chair was just another detective, but then she looked closer and saw that he was not dressed like one. He was tall and pale, his hair short and dark brown, and was dressed in an expensive, black suit and tie, and brown oxford shoes. He had a youthful face, she couldn’t really place his age. She sat at the desk and put her hands on the table. The man looked at her hands, then spoke. “Officer, can you please remove the handcuffs? She won’t harm me, I’m quite certain.” The officer gave him the eye but did as she was told. “I know, she’s dangerous, she nearly killed a man today. But we can forgive her for that, right? He did try to rape her.”

  Prue’s heart nearly jumped up and through her mouth. How did he know? She felt a tiny ball of hope in her gut that threatened to expand. Was he just trying to come off as friendly?

  “Thank you,” she said to the officer. She looked back at the man, who smiled at her. He said, “You can leave us now, Officer Grey.” She looked at him confused but complied. As she closed the door, Prue looked at him, searching for answers.

  “Who are you?” She asked, for the second time that day, and she felt so damn tired.

  “My name is Godfrey Padmore. I’m a professor at Summerville Academy. You’ve probably never heard of it.” She shook her head. “Good. We’d like it to stay that way.” Prue felt annoyed at that.

  “Next you’re gonna tell me I’m a wizard.” He laughed at that, a real, throaty laugh.

  “Sadly not. But you are special.” He smiled again, and it was heartwarming. If she wasn’t so screwed up, she would actually like the guy.

  “How? Do I have secret, magical powers or something?”

  “No, but you do have courage. You are kind, smart and resourceful, and you have something we really appreciate.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Rage.” She was confused? Did she hear him right?

  “What?”

  “Rage. Anger. We can turn that chaos inside of you into a masterpiece. If you want, of course.” She thought about it for a second.

  “Will it get me out of jail?” His face stayed the same, a smile and clear eyes. Dark brown, almost black eyes.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “But? There has to be a ‘but’.”

  “Well, let’s just say you would have to leave your life behind.” _Lucas_.

  “By ‘my life’ you mean my brother.” Prue couldn’t even imagine it. “No.”

  “Before you say that, you should hear what I have to say.” Godfrey’s smile disappeared.

  “I’m sorry, go on.” He placed his hands on the table, then joined them.

  “The academy I work for has a policy about secrecy. Everyone agrees we should stay under the radar. However, that doesn’t mean we should cut ties with the outside world completely. You could become a student and still stay in contact with your brother. You can even see him, and after, you can live with him. It would be like going to college. On the other hand, if you decide to stay here, you’ll most likely, and I mean very likely, go to jail. Your brother will get taken away and you will not be able to see him. Maybe not even after he turns 18. But who knows what can happen, life is life, you know?”

  Prue was, again, speechless. Godfrey let her think. Finally, she came to a conclusion.

  “You know that’s blackmail, right?” His smile reappeared and he gave a small shrug.

  “Why does everyone say that?” he asked sarcastically, and she had to laugh. “So? We don’t have all night. What do you say?”

  “I say fuck it. Yeah. Let’s go.” She felt 20 pounds lighter as soon as she said it.

  “Good. I’ll pick you up in the morning.” He stood up and she followed him. Looking down, she saw he wore weird, light green socks. He knocked twice on the door and Officer Grey opened it.

  They exited the door, but before going separate ways, she wavered in place. He noticed and waited for her to make up her mind. Finally, she extended her right hand and he shook it. “Thank you, Mr. Padmore.”

  “Please, call me Professor Godfrey.” He turned around on his heel, but added: “Happy birthday, by the way.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at twitter: @weirdkiddo95 <3


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